


So How Could I Ever Refuse?

by VeriLee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkwardness, Drunken dry humping, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Mild Smut, The mild smut is awkward too because that is how I roll it seems, They have had a few drinks, an array of costumes from silly to sexy, attempts at humor, but they are not plastered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeriLee/pseuds/VeriLee
Summary: Rey really likes Halloween; Ben really, really doesn't. But he sure does like Rey.Or: Rey takes advantage of her call center's lax dress code to wear costumes to work all month long and eager to capture her heart, Ben finally decides to play along.





	So How Could I Ever Refuse?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveofEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/gifts).

> A gift for our lovely headmistress, Rebecca, who deserves all the very best! The prompt was:
> 
> "Ben and Rey work together and are both crazy about the other, though they don't know it. He hated Halloween and won't get into the party spirit...until Rey dresses up, teases him and makes him realise just how much he loves the holiday."
> 
> I intended to write you something funny and sexy but these two went and got a little more awkward on me than I expected! I hope it still puts a smile on your face! <3

She's wearing an absolutely _ garish _ orange sweater with green leggings today - the front of the top emblazoned with big, glittery black triangles and a toothy Jack-o-lantern grin - and _ still _she manages to look like a walking dream, with her sparkling hazel eyes and a smile that can light up a room.

Ben leans back in his chair, watching Rey from the end of the row of cubicles, even though he should be paying attention to the customer he has on the phone. She’s leaning over a desk, fixing another employee’s computer - everything at Crait Luxury Spa Goods seems to be well past its prime, and the clunky computers are no exception - and Ben can’t tear his eyes away from the curve of her ass; even green spandex can’t detract from that.

He should look away. He shouldn’t be staring. They are coworkers. Friends? Maybe? Well, she is nicer to him than everyone else on the floor. And that includes Poe Dameron, who he’s known since childhood.

Point is, it’s creepy and rude and - _ oh _ \- she’s sort of swaying her hips now, and Ben is about to snap the pencil in his hand in half. She’s probably dancing to whatever song is playing in her earbuds, since she usually leaves her headset draped around her neck until she gets a call, but it feels like a targeted taunt, a reminder of what will never be his.

“Does it come in pumpkin spice?”

Ben nearly jumps out of his seat; he’d nearly forgotten the customer on the line. Chastised, he turns back to the screen in front of him, tries to remember what they were last talking about. 

The order input screen lists an array of candles, body wash, bath bombs, and more in caramel apple cider scent. All things the woman on the other end of the line could have bought at their local Bath and Bodyworks, or hell, even from Amazon. But he supposed he shouldn't care too much about why people insisted on calling in to order Crait's overpriced products. It provided him a paycheck, and after the dramatic way he burned his bridges leaving First Order Enterprises, (five years of his life reduced to a paragraph on his resume without a decent reference to show for it) he wasn't in a place to argue. 

His eyes trail to the bottom of the screen and the last product she asked about. 

_ Aromatherapy Bath Salts. _

With a sigh, Ben tells the customer they do indeed stock the salts in that scent. He rolls his eyes at the ubiquitous nature of pumpkin spice this time of year, even as he adds three pounds to the order and readies himself to do battle over the shipping and handling prices. 

But his eyes escape once more to follow Rey's form as it disappears down the aisle and around the corner when she heads back to her office. It is only when she's gone that he notices Poe smirking at him from two cubicles down. Ben scowls in response and picks up his sales script. 

"Now, I could reduce your order to the free shipping option, but you would lose the peace of mind and security that our tracked shipping provides," he says, his voice a monotone as he trots out the familiar, if awkward, pitch. 

He glares at Poe until finally the other man looks away, still chuckling. 

* * *

“You’ve got it bad, Benny Boy.”

Ben jerks his eyes towards the sound of Poe’s voice. He’s been caught staring again. Rey’s standing near the coffee machine on the other side of the break room, waiting for her instant caramel cappuccino to dispense into the little paper cup, chatting with Tallie from shipping, blessedly unaware of Ben’s lingering gaze. 

She’s dressed as Wonder Woman today, the tiny red, blue, and gold suit showing off miles of shapely leg - sunkissed and golden even in mid-October - and driving Ben absolutely wild. He wants to kiss every little freckle on her bare shoulder. 

“I’m just wondering if that’s against dress code,” Ben stammers. He avoids Poe’s knowing smirk, unable to keep up the lie while looking him in the eyes. Instead, he focuses on the slightly smashed turkey sandwich he’d been picking at, as if it fascinates him. 

“Dress code, sure,” Poe scoffs. He leans over and helps himself to Ben’s potato chips, and says around a mouthful of crumbs, “I think you of all people would appreciate the display.”

“Hey!” The defensive growl escapes Ben involuntarily. If Poe thinks he can make disparaging remarks about Rey just to tease him-

“Hey, hey,” Poe holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying I’ve seen how you look at her, that’s all.”

“I don’t look at her any sort of way,” Ben grumbles under his breath, but even to his own ears, he knows he sounds whiny. He swallows heavily, picking at the crust of his sandwich. He only hopes Rey hasn’t noticed what Poe apparently has; he doesn’t want to creep out the only person whose opinion he really cares about in this place.

As if she knew they were talking about her, Rey sweeps over to their table and plops herself across from them with a flourish of her cape. “Alright, who has leftovers for me?” 

She wrinkles her nose at the green concoction in Poe’s tupperware bowl, and turns to Ben’s chip bag instead.

“I wasn’t aware this was a potluck,” Ben says dryly, casting a glance between Rey and Poe; only Rey grins sheepishly, while Poe shrugs.

“Finn is on health food kick,” Poe explains. “And I can only eat so much salt-free, fat-free food.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Rey says.

“You’re not stealing my food, though, are you?” Poe asks with a laugh, and Rey sticks her tongue out at him. Ben has to shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth before he blurts out how cute the tiny gesture is. 

"So, what's it going to be tomorrow, Rey?" Poe's words are directed to her, but he sneaks a sly glance over to Ben. "Catwoman? A clown? A devil?"

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Rey replies as she snakes another chip from Ben’s bag.

“I’m sure you’ll stun us, again,” Poe says, casting Ben a grin and earning himself a scowl in reply, “but I’ve got to get back to the phones.”

It’s only after Poe is gone that Ben realizes he left his odious dish of broccoli behind and he sighs, tucking the tupperware into his own bag to return later. The break room is suddenly much too quiet without Poe’s cheery, easy banter. The truth is, Dameron could have been promoted to Team Lead, or even Floor Manager ages ago, but he’s got the gift of gab and actually _ prefers _ to stay on the phones, since he earns bonuses every pay period. _ (Ben, for the record, has barely managed to meet minimum sales quotas in the seven months he’s been here, much less reach the bonus tier.) _

"Are you really going to dress up every day this month?” he asks, just to break the silence. It comes out a little harsher than he meant, and he cringes. This is why he doesn’t usually try to make small talk with his crush. 

Rey rolls her eyes. “Okay, Grumpy Dark Lord. Just because you can’t get into the spirit doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have fun. It’s Halloween.”

“It’s October tenth.” Ben had never been a fan of Halloween, even when he was little, it was too much noise and chaos, and he hated the feel of facepaint on his skin. Ten days of Rey parading around the call center floor in costume is getting to him; he isn’t sure he can handle the entire month.

Not all of the costumes she wore have been as revealing as today’s, but even when they aren’t… well, the fusion of his favorite person and unrequited crush blended with his least favorite holiday is conflicting to say the least. He’d never expected to go home and jerk off after watching someone sashay around in a pumpkin costume, but the placement of the black triangle eyes on her sweater had been like a beacon drawing his attention right to her perky little breasts. 

“Spoilsport,” Rey snorts. “All month is Halloween, as far as I’m concerned.” 

Ben only grumbles in response. He could begin a litany of complaints, starting with the teenagers who ding-dong-ditch in his apartment complex and toilet paper the courtyard, but he also doesn’t want to rant at Rey. 

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “You know, you could switch out plain black for pinstripes and you’re halfway to a Jack Skelington costume. Though I suppose you’re not quite scrawny enough, are you?” Rey blinks and turns away then, biting her lip as though she’s said something wrong, but Ben can’t work out what. 

He has to get back to work too, but the rest of the day his mind wanders back to Rey’s lips, and how he wishes he were the one nibbling on them. It’s going to be a long month.

* * *

A week later, Ben’s computer won’t load the order taking program (buggy enough even on a good day), and it’s a double edged sword. On one hand, he doesn’t have to take any calls until his computer is fixed, and he’ll get to see Rey (assuming it’s her and not Rose - the other half of their two person IT department - that responds to his call). On the other hand, he’ll have to _ talk _to Rey, which more often than not means putting his foot in his mouth. 

“I’ll be right over,” Rey’s voice calls out, a little distant and echoey through his headset; she probably has her own headset hung around her neck again. 

She’ll be at his cubicle in under three minutes _ (so he has memorized the time it takes to cross the floor from the IT office, what of it?) _ and Ben spends the one-hundred-and-eighty seconds running his hand through his already messy hair and taking deep breaths, willing himself not to say something stupid or offensive when she arrives.

But though he vaguely wonders if she will be unknowingly taunting him with something sexy again today, or something more in the kitschy and cute category, nothing can quite prepare him for the sight that greets him.

The strangled yelp that escapes his mouth garners a tittering of laughs from the other employees in his row, but in Ben’s defense, he didn’t expect to see an oversized orange and white beach ball, nearly the width of his cubicle rounding the corner, and where Rey’s head should be, is instead what looks like a helmet with one large, shiny black eyeball in the center.

“What the hell is that?” Ben blurts out, rising to his feet. _ So much for not offending her. _

“I’m BB-8!” Rey’s chipper reply is somewhat muffled under the strange, inflatable ball. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Ben says with a shrug. Close up, he can see Rey’s astonished face through the semi-sheer eyeball, but it’s still a disconcerting image. 

“What? Have you never seen Space Battles?” her voice may be distorted, but her surprise is evident. “They’re the best!”

“I’ve seen the originals, when I was little. But I haven’t watched the new ones,” he admits. “I don’t see many movies.”

“Who doesn’t watch movies?” Rey asks, as if it’s the most unusual concept, and Ben shrugs, blushing, though he’s not entirely sure why. He generally prefers nonfiction over fiction, but though some people find that strange, he’s not usually embarrassed by it. He finds himself worrying about what Rey thinks of him, however.

Rey reaches up awkwardly to pull the helmet off of her head. “You’re missing out. We should change that,” she says, shaking her head and wiping a bit of sweat from her brow and adjusting her headset. 

The comment is casual, but the word ‘we’ is enough to make Ben stammer and blush, imagining soft, romantic movie dates with Rey, slinging his arm around her shoulders, tasting the salt and butter on her lips when he steals a kiss.

“So, um, the system keeps kicking me out,” He says, abrubtly changing the subject before he messes up and says something really stupid. He tells himself he’s imagining things when he thinks he sees Rey’s eyes dim at the change of subject.

“Right, yes,” she says, refocusing herself. “We pushed an update after closing last night. It should have been automatically applied when you booted up the computer this morning but..” Rey shrugs as she awkwardly tries to lean over the desk, since sitting in Ben’s chair is absolutely out of the question with her costume. 

“But these computers were manufactured the same year as the Commodore 64?” Ben supplies wryly.

“Why, Ben Solo, was that a _ joke _?” Rey asks, grinning over her shoulder.

He just shrugs and runs his hand through his hair for approximately the one-hundred-and-seventh time that day. 

“But, pretty much, yeah. I’ve had to manually start the update process on at least six computers this morning and I’ve barely been here an hour.” Rey shook her head at the screen.

“That sucks. Sorry about that,” Ben offers, unsure of what else to say. 

“Well, it keeps me employed. Anyway, this part won’t take me too long,” Rey says, her fingers flying across the keyboard, “but we just have to wait a few minutes for it to restart, make sure it applied correctly this time. And...there.”

Rey stands up as the screen goes black a moment before lighting up again, the little spinning wheel popping up above the _ “do not turn your machine off during this process” _ warning. “Now it’s just a waiting game.”

The pair of them stand awkwardly in Ben’s cubicle, Rey’s ridiculous round robot costume occupying the majority of the cramped space. 

“This costume seems a little impractical,” Ben says to fill the silence, hoping the smile he tries to offer doesn’t look like a grimace. 

Rey raises her arms and lets them drop again against the puffy sphere. “Yeah, I didn’t think this one through,” she admits with a chuckle. “It takes a little bit of work, though, stretching my collection for thirty-one days.”

“So you’ve kept this up on your days off, too?” Ben confirms.

“Yep, Halloween is my favorite holiday.” Rey attempts to lean against the cubicle wall, but bounces back awkwardly instead.

“Why, though?” Ben hopes the question doesn’t sound rude; he is genuinely curious. Most people grew out of this love of costumes, didn’t they?

Rey twists her mouth thoughtfully and glances to the side before meeting Ben’s gaze.

“I was in the foster care system growing up,” she begins. Ben knows this; he doesn’t know the details, but Poe’s boyfriend, Finn alluded to it being something he and Rey had in common. “For most of primary school I lived with a man, Unkar Plutt. He made me call him _ “Uncle,” _ she spits with a bitter laugh. “Anyway, he made me _ earn _my food. He ran a garage. If I didn’t keep it clean enough, if I didn’t work hard enough, I didn’t eat.”

Ben straightens up from where he’d been leaning on the cubicle wall with a growl. Rey has kept her voice even, but he can see the tension in her neck, in the rigidness of her legs sticking out of that comically out of place ball; it still haunts her.

“Anyway, a good haul on Halloween meant a stash that could keep me going for a couple of months.” Rey shifted from one foot to the other. “And some houses gave out those little individual bags of crisps, or raisins. I know lots of kids hated that, but I liked the variety. There was one woman in the neighborhood, and she always gave out muffins.”

“That doesn’t make it worse?” Ben’s voice is low and sad.

“No, it’s one of my happier memories,” Rey says with another shrug, that causes her whole costume to lift and fall, but Ben knows it matters more than she’s willing to let on. “And dressing up, pretending I was someone else for the night? That was the best part. Plutt didn’t buy me costumes, of course, but I was resourceful.” Rey grins, a tiny hint of a grin, but with real pride as she says that, and Ben can’t help smiling back.

He opens his mouth, though he’s not sure what he’s about to say, when the melodic sound of the computer starting back up interrupts him. 

“There we go,” Rey says, turning back to the computer, the moment lost. “Log in and we’ll see if it worked.” 

He doesn’t say anything when Rey snags a cookie from his lunch that day.

* * *

“Are you gonna come?”

Ben looks up at the sound of Rey’s voice and nearly spits his coffee out on his desk. Rey is leaning over the edge of his cubicle wall in a Princess Ayla bikini costume that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, even _ without _the ledge pushing up her perky tits like a display meant just for him.

Innocent as the question is, the combination of _ those _ words, while she’s wearing _ that _outfit is entirely too much for nine in the morning. 

“I, uh, I mean -” He is stammering like a fool and he knows it. He tries to cover it up with a fake sounding cough before managing to choke out, “Beg your pardon?”

Rey hops down from whatever she was perched on and walks around the divider to his desk, and it’s suddenly worse. He’s familiar with the costume; it’s from one of the older Space Battles movies that he _ has _ seen. But nothing can prepare him for the sight of Rey’s taut stomach, her bare legs slipping out from between the long panels of gauzy fabric. His slacks start to feel a little too tight and he’s very glad he’s sitting down, his desk concealing his rising _ situation. _

“To Poe’s party this weekend? You’re coming right?” Rey’s face is earnest, even...hopeful? _ She really wants him there? _

“Halloween isn’t really my thing,” Ben hedges. Every year Poe invites him - even the years when Ben was working for Snoke, and Poe never missed an opportunity to tell him he was being a dick. He’s never taken him up on it. 

“I know, but it will be fun.” Rey perches on the edge of Ben’s desk, her nearness sending his blood pressure through the roof. He only hopes he’s not sweating right through his deodorant. “You don’t even have to dress up, ok? Just wear something other than _ this.” _

As she speaks, Rey reaches over to tug on his garnet colored tie, the only splash of color against his white dress shirt and black jacket. Ben vaguely wonders if he’s actually going to have an honest-to-god aneurysm. 

“I mean, you do own something other than suits, don’t you?”

Ben can only shrug. Suits, of course, aren’t _ all _that he wears, but he doesn’t have the fun casual lifestyle many men his age do, and therefore doesn’t have the matching wardrobe. High-end was expected at First Order, both in the office and at the various social functions he was expected to attend. No one else at Crait dresses as nicely for work as he does. Hell, Tallie wears Spongebob scrub pants on a regular basis because they’re comfortable, but old habits die hard. He knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, but what else is new? 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks desperately when she crosses her ankles, causing the silky fabric to shift on her thighs, oblivious to what she was doing to him. He curls his hand into a tight fist on his lap to keep from reaching out to adjust her skirt. 

“Don’t you change the subject,” Rey admonishes. “Come to the party, alright? I know Poe wants you there and I d-” Rey stops and stands up before continuing. “I think you’d have fun, if you gave yourself a chance.”

And then Ben’s headset dings with an incoming call, and he can’t answer Rey because he has to go sell _ bubble bath, _ but he’s starting to think that he just may go to his first Halloween party since grade school. 

* * *

“I need your help.” 

It takes Ben three days of dithering to decide to go to the party, and two more to realize he needs advice. The last time he wore a costume was in fourth grade, and it was a last minute selection from what was left of Party City’s picked-over markdowns since his mother wanted him to go trick-or-treating with her then-boss’s kid. If he wants to impress Rey, he’s going to have to aim higher than bargain bin.

He can’t ask Rey outright what she’s going to wear, and if he asks Poe, he’ll tease Ben mercilessly. On his short list of acquaintances at Crait, that leaves Phasma. The head of Human Resources left First Order well before him, and is the sole reason a call center gave a customer service and sales job to someone with all the social graces of a defensive dog. 

Phasma doesn’t even look up from her desk as she snorts and replies, “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“I’m going to Poe’s party on Saturday,” Ben says.

“Doesn’t _ having fun _go against your moral code?” Phasma replies, and though Ben can hear the smirk in her voice, it’s starting to wear thin.

“Is that really what everyone thinks of me?” he asks, moving from the doorway of her office to slouch into the chair across from her desk. What he means is, _ ‘Is that what Rey thinks of me?’ _

Phasma finally lifts her head at that. “You’re the first one to leave work parties, you didn’t play in the charity softball game this summer-”

“Neither did you,” Ben counters, peevishly. 

She sighs. “I’m not trying to belittle you, Ben. Live your life how you want. But you do have a very closed-off demeanor. Even back at F.O., I could always sense you wanted to be somewhere else.”

Ben shrugs. “We all did, really.”

Phasma does laugh at that. “Touché. Okay, start again. What is it you need help with then?”

Ben casts a glance over his shoulder before continuing. “Well, Rey is really into Halloween.”

“And?” It’s only a moment before Phasma’s eyes widen in realization and a small smile crosses her lips. _ “Benjamin Solo!” _

“Don’t make me regret this, Phas,” he admonishes with a growl. “I need to know where to find a costume that doesn’t look like a reincarnated trash bag. I know you dress up for those conventions, so I figured I’d ask you.”

“Cosplay,” she corrects him. “And what I don’t make myself is custom ordered. You’ve left this pretty late. Why not just cobble together some cowboy costume, or something you can piece together by adding a few accessories to regular clothes?”

“I thought maybe I should go as a character from Space Battles,” Ben tells her. Of the eighteen costumes Rey has worn to work, at least five have been from the franchise (and he may have failed to recognize even more, since he hasn't been the avid fan she is). 

Phasma stares at him a bit too long before speaking again. “On second thought, I _ may _be able to help you after all. Stand up,” she orders, circling the desk to stand next to Ben. 

Ben does as he’s bid, and finds himself eye to eye with Phasma’s piercing gaze; she’s about the same height as him, if not a bit taller. She seems to be considering something as she brushes her hands across his shoulders, eyes him up and down. 

“I might have something for you to borrow,” she says thoughtfully. “I have a Kylo Ren costume. I mean, you’re too broad for my shirt and pants, but the robes and cloak have a lot of extra give, so they should work. And we all know you have plenty of black clothing to wear underneath.”

Ben can picture the masked figure vaguely (ok, so maybe he binged the new Space Battles movies after Rey brought them up.) He’s a villain, but it seems like he is on a track to be redeemed; he’s become a fast favorite of Ben’s since, even considering that two weeks ago, he’d never heard the name.

“That would be great,” Ben says with enthusiastic sincerity. 

“Come by after work to pick it up,” Phasma instructs. “I’ll text you my address. Now go, I have real work to be doing.

After a hasty but emphatic ‘thank you,’ Ben ducks out of the doorway, his mood decidedly looking up. He’s actually looking forward to this party. 

He runs right into Rey, walking down the hall, and in a panic hopes that she didn’t overhear his conversation with Phasma. He’s hoping to surprise her at the party.

“Oh Rey, hey, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, flustered, hoping she didn’t hear about the costume; he wants to surprise her.

Rey looks up at him curiously. “My office is right down there,” she says, pointing to the open door at the end of the hall. “Why were you in HR? Putting in for vacation, or...is something wrong?” Her voice is strange, distant. 

Ben grimaces inwardly; she probably expects he was in trouble or something. Even though it’s been months since he went off-script and berated a customer for complaining about the change in packaging on the beard oil he’d ordered. Phasma isn't wrong that he has a reputation around here. 

“No, just...stopping by. We used to work together, back at First Order,” he babbles, unable to think up an excuse. “I, uh, better get back to the phones. I’ll see you round. Or Saturday. Bye!”

Ben steps around Rey, turning away from her confused face and practically runs back to his desk. 

* * *

The party doesn’t go as Ben expects. Well, he does spend a lot of time hovering at the edge of the crowd, unable to eat or drink with his helmet on - that part isn’t out of the ordinary. 

But Rey is avoiding him, and he doesn’t know why. When she first walked in, Ben felt even more optimistic than when he picked up the borrowed costume from Phasma, (the dark henley shirt and black jeans he’s wearing underneath aren’t quite right, but the outer robes hide his street clothes for the most art) because not only did he make the right choice in seeking a Space Battles costume, but Rey is dressed up as Kira, the heroine who spends most of her screentime with the Kylo character. It couldn’t have been better if they planned it.

Rey isn’t as impressed as Ben had hoped, though.

When Poe drunkenly slings an arm around Ben and hollers at Rey to _ ‘look who came to play for once,’ _ she merely looks him up and down once, mumbling that she thought he didn’t like the new movies. 

Before Ben can formulate a reply - that he hadn’t seen them until recently, not that he didn’t _ like _them - she’s grabbing a cup of lurid orange punch and heading to another room. 

For the next hour, Ben meanders from room to room, not wanting to lose sight of Rey, but also not sure how to apologize for a sleight he doesn’t even realize he made. He watches her try to do the _ Thriller _dance with Finn, drink shots with another version of Kira, and circulate through the crowd. She doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop talking, as if she’s afraid of standing still. It’s almost dizzying to watch. He catches a glimpse of her face only once, as Phasma, fashionably late as ever, greets him, and Rey doesn’t look particularly mad. Rather, disappointed, almost. But she turns away and makes a beeline for the kitchen before Ben can study her expression for long. 

“I take it you haven’t done anything but brood and sulk in corners?” Phasma asks, watching Ben watching Rey. “You might be a little _ too _in-character,” she adds with a smirk. 

Ben doesn’t answer, opting to instead take a swig from the cup he’s clutching a little too tightly. Sometime after hearing “Monster Mash” repeat for the third time on Poe’s playlist, Ben had taken the mask off, needing some of the cheap alcohol to help calm his nerves. 

“What is this anyway?” he asks, crumpling his now empty cup and changing the subject.

“Orange gatorade and vodka, if I had to guess,” Phasma answers with a shrug. “Poe isn’t exactly known for his refined tastes. But it does the job.” 

Ben can’t argue with that. He also can’t argue with how quickly it races through his system, and he excuses himself to find a bathroom. When he exits it (fully frustrated by how long it takes to adjust the layered robes and refasten the belt - no wonder Kylo Ren is so grumpy) he runs headfirst into Rey in the otherwise empty hallway.

“Oh it’s you,” she says. But she doesn’t run away this time. Her eyes are a little glassy from drinking, but also wistful. Some of her chestnut hair has fallen loose from her buns and the little wisps and tendrils frame her face. 

_ She’s pretty even when she’s sad _ , Ben thinks. And then, _ I wish she were never sad. _

“Rey, is something wrong? Did I do something?” Ben takes a step closer, hopes she doesn’t flee. “You seem _ off _ tonight.”

“Hardly.” Rey gives a short, mirthless laugh. “I had thought… I’ve just been silly, that’s all. I’ll leave you be.”

She starts to step around Ben, but he catches her wrist in his hand. “What do you mean, _ ‘leave me be?’ _ Halloween? Parties? This is your thing; I came tonight because _ you _ asked me to.” 

Rey smiles sadly and reaches up with her free hand to push back a shock of dark hair that has fallen into Ben’s face. “You’re softer than you let people see. She’s lucky to have you.”

She’s talking nonsense. Ben is confused and the vodka running through his veins isn’t helping anything. “What do you mean? ‘_ She’ _who?”

“You worked together before, too. And she’s so classy. How can I compete?” Rey’s voice is almost a whisper, as though she’s talking to herself and not Ben. 

Slowly, hazily, his mind starts to piece it together. “Phasma?” he asks incredulously. 

Rey nods. “Who else? I saw you together.” She looks down, tugging her arm from Ben’s grasp and mutters at the floor, drink having loosened her tongue. “I can’t believe I let myself be blinded by my stupid crush. Why would I think-”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. When the word crush rolls across her pretty, soft-looking lips, Ben can’t turn away. The word repeats like a chant inside his mind: _ crush, crush, crush. _

_ Does she mean? _

For once, he doesn’t let himself overthink. Ben leans down and clumsily captures Rey’s mouth with his own, swallowing the rest of her words. She leans into him, kissing him back for one blissful fraction of a moment before she stumbles backwards.

“What about your girlfriend?” she demands, with an accusatory glare.

“I’m not dating Phasma- I’m not dating anyone,” Ben insists. “She was helping me with a costume, to impress _ you, _Rey. “

“Really?” Rey’s eyes grow hopeful.

“Yes, really. I’ve liked you for so long - since the first time we met. I’ve just been too shy to do anyth-”

Now, Rey is the one to cut off his rambling as she grabs his robes and yanks him down to kiss her again. There is no quick parting this time, however. Now that he’s had a taste, Ben is powerless to stop drinking her in. They are a flurry of motion - hands and fingers grasping, tearing at each other, lips and teeth seeking to claim each other. Rey threads her fingers into Ben’s hair, tugging so hard it almost hurts, as if he might float away if she were to let go.

He groans into the hollow of her throat as he takes a step forward, pinning Rey against the wall with his hips. There can be no doubt of his interest in her now; surely she can feel him, even through these layers of clothes, hard and desperate as he grinds against her? As if in confirmation of his unasked question, Rey moans as she tilts her pelvis to rock back into him.

Spurred on by her reaction, Ben lets his hands wander downward from her waist, squeezing that perfect ass he’s spent so much time staring at, before sliding down to her thighs, hoisting her up. She cries out his name in a breathy gasp as she wraps her legs around his waist and Ben thinks it’s possibly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He wants to hear it again. Hear her moan his name, scream it. He wonders what other noises he can draw forth from her. 

Later though. After months of dreaming of Rey, and having had no relief other than his own hand for far longer, just rutting against the object of his affection like a frenzied animal has him approaching the edge quicker than he’d like. But he's desperate and can't bring himself back. 

"Rey, I didn't plan- I can't-" He's stuttering and almost whimpers before apologizing on a guttural groan when he comes in his pants like a horny teenager. "Rey, fuck, sorry_ , Rey _."

He drops his forehead to hers, panting heavily, his cheeks flushed from both exertion and embarrassment. They're still locked together, leaning against the wall for support, Rey's knees hooked over Ben's hips. 

She shakes her head at his apology. "Stop that, I'm close." Rey snakes a hand between them, reaching into her leggings as her other hand grips his shoulder tight, clutching his robe with her fist. 

He should help her, _ touch her. _ Make her come undone without making her work for it. But he's in a trance, helpless to do anything but watch in awe at the way she scrunches her eyes closed and bites at her bottom lip, the way she works her hand furiously under the thin layer of fabric; the expression on her face is captivating. Then she's shaking and whimpering in his arms, and Ben changes his mind - that little cry that escapes her as she comes is his favorite sound; a poem wants to hear recited forever.

For a moment they remain silent but for their frantic, beating hearts, until a pair of partygoers stumble into the hallway, laughing, in search of the bathroom, disrupting their post orgasmic little bubble. 

Reluctantly Ben lowers Rey to the ground and steps back, but only the smallest of steps. 

"I had something a bit more romantic than this in mind," Ben says with an embarrassed chuckle. "I don't think I held up my end of things here."

"I'm not _ complaining _," Rey responds with a little gleam in her eyes. "But if you want to make it up to me, let's go to my place."

Ben can hardly whip out his phone to order an Uber fast enough. Because as pretty as Rey looks in her Kira costume, he's desperate to see her _ out _of it and worship her like she deserves. 

God bless Poe Dameron and his stupid party. Maybe Halloween wasn't so bad, after all. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this little bit of Halloween fun! Many hugs to my secret beta!! <3


End file.
